


Occupational Hazard

by DetectiveRiley (RavenWhitecastle)



Series: The Sinner and the Saint [33]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Anger, Anger born of worry, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Caretaking, M/M, Post Samaritan, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21736597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenWhitecastle/pseuds/DetectiveRiley
Summary: Harold grows tired of John's reckless tendencies.
Relationships: Harold Finch/John Reese
Series: The Sinner and the Saint [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/940422
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	Occupational Hazard

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title: Trouble in Paradise

John stumbled back to the subway bloody, again. He appeared in the door of the subway car with his hand pressed against his shoulder and blood dripping down his arm. “Hey, Harold,” he managed, barely lifting his head, “I’ll, uh… I’ll pick up the tab, for the floor cleaner.”

Harold was livid, John could tell. His lips were pursed and his brow furrowed, but he restrained himself well. He fell into the routine of leading John to a seat, removing the necessary garments- John’s jacket and shirt- and assessing the damage.

Harold was starting on the stitches when he muttered, “John, you idiot.”

John looked up from the floor that he’d been silently studying. “Excuse me?”

“You promised me you wouldn’t be half so reckless!”

Sighing, John replied, “Our number was going to shoot an innocent man, Harold.”

“Yes, but no thanks to your impulsivity, he shot _ you _ instead.” Harold jabbed John particularly hard with the needle. John winced, but said nothing. 

A few more minutes passed in silence. Harold wrapped up the stitches, taking a few deep breaths. As he finished tying it off, he snapped, “How many more times?”

“Harold…”

Harold grabbed a bandage and pressed it firmly to John’s skin. John winced again. “How many times, John? How many more times do you think you can get away with this before…”

Cutting himself off, Harold slammed his hand down on the desk. He clenched his hands into fists to keep his fingers from shaking.

Carefully, John covered Harold’s hand with his own. “Harold,” he murmured, “It’s just a graze.”

“And what about next time?” Harold asked sharply. “What about the time after that?” Getting increasingly agitated, Harold limped out of the car. “What happens when it’s not  _ just _ a graze?”

John followed, easing his shirt back on as he cradled his injured arm. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he replied. Shrugging his good shoulder, he added, “Occupational hazard.”

It was a dark attempt at humor, but it didn’t land. Harold was hunched over his desk, leaning on it with both hands. John could read the tension in Harold’s shoulders. He stepped closer, unsure of what to do. He’d rarely seen Harold so… scared.

After taking a shuddering breath, Harold straightened and adjusted his glasses. “I’m sorry, John. I just… I can’t stand the thought of you… getting caught in harm’s way. And as much as I know that it’s inevitable… that what we do is dangerous… it no longer feels like an acceptable risk.”

John tilted his head. “And what counts as an ‘acceptable risk’ in our line of work?” he challenged. He sighed before he added, “I love you, but we have a job to do.”

Harold turned to face him. “You’re right. We do. Stopping Samaritan.” He closed the distance between them and continued, “We have a mission, to keep this city and its people safe. Right now, Greer and his SAI are New York’s biggest threat.” Looking John in the eye, he said, “We can put our focus on stopping Samaritan, and we can save everyone Greer’s machine would destroy.” Harold’s gaze lowered. “Or, we could save all the numbers in between… but lose each other.”

John was speechless. Harold was asking him to choose, but John wasn’t sure he could. Taking Harold’s hand in his, John replied, “We’re in uncharted territory here, Harold. I can’t guarantee what’s going to happen. Most of the numbers we get these days are related to Samaritan anyway.”

Sighing, Harold nodded. “You’re right. I know you’re right. But…” Harold paused to gently trace the bandage on John’s shoulder. “You have to be more careful. Or, at the very least, you have to try.” He gazed up at John. “Promise?”

John closed his eyes, leaned in, and kissed Harold on the forehead. “Promise.”


End file.
